My mother always smothered me
with kind words, warm hugs, and long
days worrying over my health
even as an adult
becoming colder and more distant
always disliking being bothered
about every little advice
that she pushed into my growing
aging ego
I was never the grateful child
as my father once told me
and in truth, I hate to be reminded
that I barely give my gratitude
so openly like others.
I was always bitter as an adult
always wanting to do things my way.
I told everyone that true love is never
mentioned, it's a feeling, so don't
knock it
don't be asking me to say things
like "i love you" out-loud
if you can't see love,
then it's better not to fake love
not to always say the obvious, like
thank you for holding the door for me
always.
And yet, this morning my own dog turned
ten years since I met her as a newborn.
And yet,
I can't help but smother her like I did
then
like I see her, always.
Isn't this ironic
that I hate my mother
for doing exactly what I do now
loving, my own dog when I see her aging
grey fur,
all I see is the little cute old baby
that I held up in my arms once.
03.27.24
